


Both Sides Now

by setissma



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: HP: EWE, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-07
Updated: 2016-09-07
Packaged: 2018-08-13 14:01:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7979293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/setissma/pseuds/setissma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What to expect when you're not expecting. (Yet.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Both Sides Now

“So you’re just going to –“ Hermione said, gesturing. “Really? Like flipping a coin?”

“Yes,” Pansy said, taking another bite of her grilled cheese. “I am going to be completely and utterly unscientific about it. Because I absolutely and positively do not give a damn.”

“But, I mean, surely there’s some logic to it,” Hermione said. “You’ve talked it over and decided who has a more pressing need for an heir and all that, haven’t you?”

Pansy snorted, covering the back of her mouth with her hand as she laughed. “Oh, I can assure you, Lucius and Narcissa have made their opinion on that _quite_ clear. Well, okay, let’s be more accurate, they’ve been making their opinion on that quite clear since I was seventeen, and last Christmas Narcissa had the gall to ask if I’d been to see someone at St. Mungo’s to _have my fertility assessed_.”

“Oh dear,” Hermione said.

Pansy laughed again, taking a bite of a chip. “No, it was sort of spectacular, actually, Draco was laughing so hard I thought he was going to be sick, and Harry exploded a chandelier he was so pissed off, and then I told her we really needed to get going to your place for dinner. I thought Lucius was going to have an aneurysm.”

“They’re very…” Hermione said, pausing.

“Awful?” Pansy said.

“Er,” Hermione said. “No offense, but I’m not sure there’s much to be said for former Death Eaters who insist on meddling in your personal life. I’m still not even sure why you go.”

“Oh, I don’t know, it’s Draco’s way of getting back at them,” she said, rolling her eyes. “They won’t disown him, so I think he kind of enjoys parading around the fact that I’ve turned out decently and he’s married to Harry Potter and living a life of sin and all that. What’s that saying? Living well is the best revenge?” 

“You haven’t _told_ them, have you?” Hermione said.

“Granger, that’s the stupidest thing I’ve heard you say this year,” Pansy said. “They’re not going to know until the Prophet does, or until the baby is born, whichever comes first, and even then I’ll probably still deny it.”

Hermione shook her head, laughing. “Pansy, you’re Deputy Headmistress at a school full of particularly gossip-loving teenagers, and they’ve all had you the whole time at this point, so I rather suspect everyone is going to notice if you start wearing closed robes and flats.”

“No, I’ve got the shoe thing worked out,” Pansy said, waving a chip. “I won’t be pregnant enough in summer to have to do without, and then I can just wear boots. I mean, give or take a few months for margin of error due to my utterly inadequate fertility, of course.”

Hermione laughed again. “So really,” she said. “Absolutely no… nothing. Even _I_ took my temperature the second time around.”

“Well, that was pointless, you’re married to a Weasley,” Pansy said, taking a sip of wine. “It took you a month both times, didn’t it?” 

“That could have been sheer coincidence,” Hermione pointed out.

“All right,” Pansy said, laughing. “I suppose that’s only two. But it only took Fleur a month each too, so sample size of five.”

“Sample bias of veela and the flu,” Hermione protested, laughing. 

“I’m not asking Audrey,” Pansy said. “Ugh, it doesn’t bear thinking about. That poor woman. Do you think he goes over tax code in the bedroom? ‘Oh, darling, subsection C of article 11 is just _so_ riveting, doesn’t it turn you on?’”

Hermione snorted water out of her nose, burying her face in her hands. “We are not thinking about it. It’s hardly her fault she’s quiet. We can’t all handle being married to Draco Malfoy _and_ Harry Potter, you know.”

“Oh, I know, they’d have her for supper,” Pansy said, cheerfully. “Harry keeps trying to say hi and she literally stares and runs off. Actually, I think she did the same thing with _Ron_ , which is even more ridiculous since he’s the least pretentious person alive.”

“I know,” Hermione said, with a sigh.

“You _do_ realize she has a mouse daemon, don’t you?” Kit said, from underneath the table, where he was drowsing. He’d rather firmly vowed to stay out of the entire lunch. Atticus was perched on a nearby chair, preening his feathers.

“It could be a very fierce mouse, for all we know,” Pansy said. “Though I suppose evidence suggests it’s not.”

“He screamed when it saw me,” Kit said, dryly. “And that was _before_ Thaxia made some sort of joke about eating him.”

“Oh, god,” Pansy said “Well, I’ll just have to steal the show this year, I suppose. Everyone can coo at me and act atrocious, and then I’ll be exactly the same person except probably with some strange craving for olives or mincemeat pie. Molly will be put out and everyone acceptable will find it hilarious.”

“You know, your tendency to divide Harry’s family into acceptable and unacceptable is a bit… Slytherin,” Hermione said, sternly. “It’s not very nice.”

Pansy rolled her eyes. “Come off it, we all know some of you were going to be happy for us, some of them were going to go off and whisper behind their hands about our backwards and untoward lifestyle, and some of them were just going to staunchly pretend we don’t exist. _I_ can’t really categorize Percy if he refuses to say a single word to me and their baby suddenly has to be fed every single time I go near any of the children. And if George’s obnoxious girlfriend says one more thing about Draco being Death Eater spawn or something equally as absurd, you do realize Harry’s just going to punch her, don’t you? I actually think no one cares about the three people thing, they just hate that Harry picked Slytherins.”

Hermione sighed. “I don’t think there was ever really going to be seamless integration there, no.”

Pansy grinned, winningly. “But it’s the best Christmas in the whole world and we all hated it before yours, so that’s what counts, isn’t it? Taking in orphaned Potters and wayward Slytherins and everyone opening the presents and passing the salt politely and then getting extraordinarily drunk when all the boring people leave?” She paused. “Oh, damn. Well, I’ll just enjoy everyone else being extraordinarily drunk. And the extraordinarily drunken Christmas sex after.”

“There is that upside,” Hermione agreed. “Seriously, though –“

“ _No_ ,” Pansy said, laughing. “Come on, I’ve asked you to lunch to tell you we’re going to start trying, and here you are demanding all these salacious details like who the biological father’s going to be.”

“It’s a very practical detail,” Hermione said, dryly.

“Yes, and it doesn’t _matter_ , because we’ll bring it up the same way regardless, and I’m not letting anyone play favorites, if Lucius and Narcissa or Molly and Arthur are going to send gifts, it had better be for _all_ the children, I’m not letting any of them think they’re loved any less,” Pansy said. “There are quite a few things I’ve stood for over the years, but anyone being less than perfectly kind to my children isn’t going to be one of them.”

Hermione blinked. “You haven’t started _already_ , have you?” she said, wryly.

“’Hi, I may or may not have ovulated and there may or may not be sperm and there may or may not be some sort of tiny blob blastocyte around and I’m drinking wine to help it along, want to get sandwiches?’” Pansy said, making a face. “Worst lunch ever, Granger. No.”

Hermione bit back a laugh. “Well, you sound just like a mother, anyway,” she said.

“Ugh,” Pansy said. “I’m pleased and I feel as if I’m going to throw up all at once. I suppose I’ll have nine months to get used to the idea.”

“Well, Rose was an accident, so I can’t really help you with the planning stages, especially since you’re not _planning_ anything,” Hermione said. “But yes, that’s a rather familiar feeling. Although I think mine had a larger morning sickness component than nerves.”

Pansy tipped her chair back a bit, shaking her hair out and letting herself catch some sun. “Come on, be reasonable,” she said. “I’m going to go about my ordinary life, and we’ll have perfectly ordinary amounts of sex, and I’m not keeping track of when I’m ovulating or any of that rubbish, because then they’ll both get weird about who’s having sex with me when, or they’ll both insist on having sex with me to be fair, and I’ll never get any sleep and my entire summer of research will be wasted. And I’ve already taken four of – whatever those damn plants are that bloom when you’re fertile back to the greenhouses, and Harry’s got some sort of _chameleon_ thing, which I also had to take back to the greenhouses because apparently it doesn’t live in the Magical Creatures wing, and I’m just –“ Pansy waved a hand. “No. Absolutely not.”

“They can probably _count_ , you know,” Hermione said, and Pansy laughed even harder.

“Firstly, I’m really sort of hoping someone knocks me up before I start getting my period again after I go off the potion, because I’m a _raging_ bitch and Draco’s never been around it, so he won’t know to fling chocolate in the room and then flee,” she said. “And secondly, Harry’s making all those day trips to the continent for collecting on top of supervising that African trip for the graduated seventh years who are going to go work at the London Magicozoology Society, you know, so he’s not going to be able to keep track of his _wand_ , let alone what day into my cycle I am. And Draco’s just going to keep sneaking plants in, and I’ll spell them all with exploding green and silver glitter or something. I’m not that concerned.”

“Do you think you’ll know whose it is?” Hermione said. “I mean, god knows, babies don’t really have any defining features and they’re only exceptionally and radiantly cute if they belong to Fleur.” She made a face. “I mean, honestly, it’s not as if anyone likes Victorie better than Rose or something, but newborns are _supposed_ to be squashy, not perfect.”

Pansy laughed. “I have a sneaking suspicion I’ll probably know long before the baby is born, honestly,” she said. “And unless it looks just like me, then yes, I rather think we’ll know, they look _nothing_ alike. And you know how wizarding genetics work, it’s all – backwards selection for recessive traits to keep magic in the gene pool.”

“Yes, beautifully illustrated by my two red-headed children,” Hermione said, with a sigh.

“Well, yours is sort of a… chestnut auburn in the right light, you might have contributed something,” Pansy said. “And anyway, it’s quite obvious that Rose has gotten what’s important from you anyway, which is the ridiculous magical ability.”

“Do you know, I got so fed up with her animating her stuffed animals last week that I actually let Bill take my six year old to see if she could open unopenable objects for the goblins,” Hermione said. “I’m a terrible mother. I really am. But I could not take one more horrific stuffed dog toy walking through the kitchen. Crookshanks may not be a particularly ordinary cat, but who knows, by normal terms, he’s getting on in years, and the toys seem to bother him.” Hermione paused. “By which I mean he goes on sleeping in the lounge chairs and I shriek and trip over the damned things, but you never know.”

“And how’d that go?” Pansy asked.

“They want to know if she can come back twice a week,” Hermione said, with a sigh. “I don’t know, she’s interacting with other magical beings, that’s important, isn’t it?”

“Centaur camp with Lavender Brown and Firenze next month,” Pansy said, cheerfully.

Hermione glared. “I haven’t said a single thing about you still hating Ginny.”

“Oh, all right, send her with Harry to visit the sirens, they all adore him, they’re quite fun mid-month,” Pansy said, then paused. “Ooh, can we invite Ginny to Christmas this year?”

“You’re awful,” Hermione said, looking as if she was trying not to laugh. “Really, seriously awful. A complete tart.”

“Just inquiring,” Pansy said, innocently. “I was very sorry to hear about her and Dean, really. Shame that didn’t work out.”

“You’re not sorry in the least,” Hermione said.

“Yeah,” Pansy agreed. “I’d honestly be just fine with her moving to Africa with Harry’s students or something. Pro-Quidditch means I’ve got to look at her in the stupid magazines.”

“She’s not that bad, you know,” Hermione said. “We were quite friendly before she moved. I mean, that was a long time ago, but still.”

“And she cheated on Harry, which is worse than we can say of Lavender,” Pansy said. “Is that _still_ top secret intel?”

“I really do think Harry would prefer it didn’t get passed around,” Hermione said, and Pansy sighed.

“I know, he’s far too nice for his own good, not wanting to start family feuds or anything,” she said. “But she was a total arse to Draco when Fleur got that horrific flu and was in hospital last year.”

“Yes, and Harry _heard_ that entire argument about only family being allowed to visit, so I don’t think he’s really on Team Ginny at the moment,” Hermione pointed out. “Not to mention the part where Fleur started asking for _you_ while you were taking your turn watching the kids.”

“Well, we’re nearly sisters,” Pansy said, with a shrug. “And besides, between me and Draco, we know all the residents at St. Mungo’s so we can actually get things done.”

Hermione shook her head, laughing. “Also the part where she adores you and you’ve the worst bedside manner in the entire universe, which is somehow exactly what you want when it’s in comparison to a million Weasleys fussing over you.”

“And we’re not actually related so I’ll have all the best choices for potential husbands and wives for my children,” she said, waving her toothpick. “Win-win.”

“You do realize I think Harry’s rather against arranged marriages,” Hermione said, dryly.

“Well, yes, that’s why you _encourage_ them to think it’s all their own idea,” Pansy said. “Louis and Hugo are both of a perfectly reasonable age if it’s a girl. And they’ll probably both end up in Ravenclaw, which is a perfectly reasonable house for a boyfriend if you’re a Slytherin.”

Hermione laughed, running a hand through her hair. “I can’t decide what’s worse, that you’ve sorted the toddlers already, that you’re trying to marry off our children to one another, or that you’ve sorted your _not yet conceived_ child already.”

“Please,” Pansy said. “It’s got me for a mother and those two for fathers. There’s honestly not even any point in using the Hat.”

“I don’t think it works that way,” Hermione said. “Besides, you’re all bright, you might get a Ravenclaw.”

“Oh, I suppose,” Pansy said, with a sigh. “We’d live. Teddy’s a Hufflepuff and no one was really expecting that and he’s still doing very well.”

“You are an elitist house snob,” Hermione said, laughing. “And most of your family and friends are Gryffindors.”

“Well, yes, I _like_ you, but that’s in spite of that, not because of it,” Pansy said. “And Harry’s only sort of one, I think he got put there because his entire bloody childhood was destined to be such a cock up. He’s like a Gryfferin. A Slythindor. Something.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Would it jinx it to ask if you’ve thought about names?”

“Are you daft?” Pansy said. “Of course we have. Well.” She paused. “Okay, Draco and I have, Harry’s got one he likes that he won’t tell me. All we’ve agreed upon is that if it’s Draco’s we’ll have to go with something Black, if it’s Harry’s they’re not allowed to fill out the birth certificate without me, no one’s naming anything after a deceased parent, no offense, and as much as it pains me to admit it, I think we’re going to have to use Malfoy-Potter, I don’t want them having different last names.”

“Hah!” Hermione said. “You’re coming around, aren’t you?”

“On the feminist aspect?” Pansy said. “Hermione, neither of those is my last name. And mostly it’s so we don’t all feel weirdly disjointed.” She paused. “Okay, and because it’s going to royally piss off Lucius and Narcissa, I’ll be completely honest.”

“Why, er, the Black name?” Hermione said. “It’s not as if you’re…” She gestured.

“Traditional?” Pansy said, dryly. “Because it’s important. Some things are important to pass down. And I want… I don’t know.” She shrugged. “The Malfoy House will be a mix of old and new once Lucius and Narcissa are gone. I want his or her name to reflect that the old isn’t all bad.” She smiled. “It did get me Draco, you know.”

“Yes, and how you two got Harry is a mystery I’ll never quite solve,” Hermione said, cupping her chin in her hand with a smile. “Well. I suppose that’s not true. I know exactly why Harry loves you. It’s just not a part of himself I ever expected him to… embrace so thoroughly. And no, I don’t mean that badly, he’s exquisitely happy.” She smiled. “And the fact that he sent _you_ to tell me says quite a bit, you know.”

“Well, he didn’t really send me,” Pansy admitted. “He’s half way between, oh, we’re having a baby, we’d already planned that, no big deal, we ought to just tell them at Sunday dinner, and on the other end of it trying to talk me into keeping it to myself for three months.”

“You did point out that you’re a rather powerful witch, didn’t you?” Hermione said.

“Yes, I’m so looking forward to all that,” Pansy said, with a sigh. She smiled. “But, I mean, if I’m stuck doing it, at least I’ve got good people to do it with.”

“You do,” Hermione agreed, then paused. “I don’t suppose you even want a book or something, do you?”

“Oh, my god,” Pansy said, rolling her eyes. “I swear, I’m getting pregnant tonight so I can stop with all this awful fuss about it.”

Hermione laughed. “Well, now you’ve done it, you’ve doomed yourself to success through sarcasm,” she said. “I’ll owl you the due date tomorrow.”

“Thanks,” Pansy said, dryly. “When I add my blood to a potion and it turns from black to white, I’ll let you know.”

“You know, the muggle way is really a lot –“

“Nope,” Pansy said. “No more advice. Just cake.”

“Fine, have it your way,” Hermione said, rolling her eyes.

“I most certainly intend to,” Pansy said, with a grin, and waved for a waiter.


End file.
